Chapter 35
A Dread Tide Rising by Walt Shuler
Behold! A new chapter for a new Monday!
Previously: Hax and Pax discovered a way to see shapeshifters in their human guise.
Currently: The twins find that getting their precious cargo to Mac and the rest of the Talon is harder than they expected.
A Dread Tide Rising is a serialized, pulp-flavored, epic fantasy novel that follows the Talon, a group of mercenaries, thieves, and smugglers, as they come face-to-face with an ancient enemy intent on the destruction of the Rakkian Empire.
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Chapter 35
Smoke stung Pax’s eyes.
“Murdering bastard,” she growled, burying the head of one hatchet in the naked chest of a pirate. The man gurgled as blood fountained and then went down. Pax wrenched her hatchet free and turned to find another foe.
She caught a glimpse of her brother amidship. He was up to his waist in pirates, but Hax’s eyes gleamed with good humor as he lashed out around him with his sword. The enemy was packed so close that it was almost impossible for him to miss. Unfortunately, those ranks were filled almost immediately.
The twins had shipped out from Catha aboard Misty Dawn, a cargo ship that plied the triangle between Rakka, Batis-Bota, and the Isle of Stars. She was bound for Starholt, and the captain promised they would make landfall in less than ten days with favorable winds. At first, the journey had been uneventful, then one morning they had woken to find pirates bearing down. The captain had run, betting his ship was the faster, but Mali herself must have been against them. The pirate ship gained speed steadily while Misty Dawn lost speed consistently.
“They must have one hell of a weather worker,” Pax had observed. Hax had only growled, hand straying to his sword hilt.
That had been a day ago. The reaver ship steadily overtook them and, eventually, even Misty Dawn’s captain had to admit that running was a lost cause. He ordered the crew to fight, but Pax knew that was a death sentence.
The Misty Dawn carried a crew of about ten, not counting herself, Hax, or the captain. She counted more than three times the number of pirates on the deck of the approaching ship and in its rigging. She and Hax could easily take care of their share, but she doubted the sailors, most armed with gaffing hooks and belaying pins, would be up to the task. If push came to shove, she and Hax could likely handle six each, but anything more than that was fantasy.
Pax shook herself out of her reverie long enough to launch a blow at a screaming pirate trying to cut her in half with a cutlass. The hatchet bounced off the cutlass blade and only struck a glancing blow to the side of the man’s head, mangling his ear in the process. The pirate continued his screaming, but clutched at his ear. Pax grinned and sent her other hatchet to finish the job. The screams stopped abruptly.
“Sail ahoy!” The shout managed to cut across the tumult, and both defenders and attackers looked to see what was happening. A galley was bearing down on the battle, gray sails bellied out with the wind. Pax saw no banner, but she was long, low, and lean; double-masted with two banks of oars, and bearing a ram at the prow. This was no merchant scow, wallowing cargo ship, or blighted pirate. She was a warship and sailing full speed at the pirates.
The pirates realized the warship’s intended target at the same time. Most rushed to board their ship once more in a bid to get away before the galley could reach them. The alternative was to try to butcher as many sailors on Misty Dawn as possible and then fight again when the galley’s soldiers arrived. Pax could see the men on the warship’s deck, all well-armed and ready. She regarded the retreating pirates once more, and a feral light gleamed in her eyes.
“Hey!” she shouted at a nearby sailor. “You want to make these godsforsaken bastards pay for this?” The sailor shot a confused glance from her to the pirates and back, and then she saw the light dawn.
“Hells, yes,” he muttered, hefting a dropped cutlass from the deck. “Come on, lads! Have at them!”
Pax’s bloodthirsty shout cut across the deck as she raced toward the pirates, hatchets at the ready. The first man she hit did not even realize what had happened. The second rank saw her coming, but that only made things worse. Packed in against the railing and trying to make their way back to their ship, there was nowhere to go. Pax was a force of nature, a blood-and-steel waterspout that chewed up men and spit them out on the deck, mangled and dying.
The approaching ship slowed, but the sound of wood grinding on wood was incredibly loud as she hit the starboard side of the pirate’s ship, the ram jutting out over the pirate’s deck. The impact knocked the pirate ship into Misty Dawn, sending pirates and sailors sprawling across the deck. Warriors shouted from the deck of the galley, and then they moved in a wave across the ram to the pirate ship, where they made quick work of the few raiders who had made it back.
Seeing the fate of their comrades, the pirates aboard Misty Dawn fought viciously, determined to take as many sailors with them as possible. Pax was only too happy to meet them steel for steel. Out of the corner of one eye, she caught sight of Hax, bleeding from a dozen minor wounds, but still standing and dealing death while laughing like a madman. He looked at her, and she mirrored his crazed grin. Gods, she thought. It was times like this that she loved her brother most.
Brigand after brigand came at her, and she cut them down until one brute of a man, wielding what looked like a length of anchor chain, stood in her way. Bald, beer-bellied, and bleeding, he stood like a mountain of flesh. He leered and laughed. “Come on, girlie! It’s a good day to die all around, isn’t it?”
Pax let her actions speak on her behalf. Her hatchets sang out, the first one catching the big man’s upper bicep, and then the other a glancing blow to a tree trunk-like thigh. The giant teetered, his leg quivering, but he did not go down. Then it was his turn, and he brought the chain down in a thundering roar that sent splinters flying from the deck, but Pax was no longer there. She had danced away, half circling her opponent. And when he paused to recover from his attack, she launched her own.
A flurry of hatchet blows drove the man backward, then to one knee. He managed to bring the chain up and deflect one blow, but Pax adroitly went around it with her other blade, sinking it deep into his chest with a wet squelch. The reaver sagged but did not topple. Bloody froth flecked his lips, and his eyes blazed with madness, but he refused to die. He swung his chain in a sideways arc, hoping to catch Pax that way, but she ducked under the blow, one leg extended and the other coiled underneath.
As the chain passed harmlessly over her head, Pax used that leg to propel herself up and forward, both hatchets blurring toward their target. The big pirate had a split second to register his impending demise, and Pax was gratified to see his eyes widen and lips pull back from blackened teeth before her hatchets struck home. One took him in the forehead, biting through bone and into the brain. The other took him in the throat, blood and air burbling out around the head. He stood there a moment longer before toppling to the deck with a hollow boom.
Pax wasted no time recovering her weapons. Wiping them on the dead man’s clothes, she surveyed the carnage around her. Most of the reavers were dead or dying. She frowned. Most of the crew were, too. Her heart lifted a bit; Hax stood by the forward rail, nursing an injured arm, and Pax made her way quickly to her brother.
“You survived,” she observed.
Hax laughed. “It was a good fight. Woulda been better if those others hadn’t come up.”
“Any idea who they are?” Pax asked, staring past Hax’s shoulder at the newcomers trying to get an idea of who they were and what they wanted.
Hax shrugged. “No idea, but they’re well trained. Not just seasoned sailors, either. Real fighters.”
That gave Pax pause. Real fighters had military experience. That meant one of three things: Rakkian forces loyal to the emperor, men loyal to one of the Great Houses, or fighters out of Süt. No option sat well with her. Another glance at the bodies on the deck and some quick mental arithmetic told her they had a problem, but before she could mention it to Hax, a soldier interrupted her.
“Paxalana and Haxalanis Roh?” he asked.
“Who’s asking?” Hax challenged.
“Shut up, dummy,” Pax growled at him. It was obvious the guard knew who they were. There was no getting out of this without more killing if they were out for blood. “That’s us,” she said to the soldier. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Not me, ma’am,” he said. “Captain wants to see you.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the galley.
“Captain who?” Hax wanted to know, but the soldier did not answer.
“If you’ll both follow me?” The soldier turned on one booted heel, and Pax got the distinct feeling that they did not have much choice in the matter. She glanced at Hax, who shrugged and then stretched the kinks out. Both did a quick check of their weapons and then fell in behind the soldier.
Traveling from Misty Dawn to the deck of the reaver ship took little time, but it was enough for both twins to come to the same conclusion. They were not leaving here under their own sail. There were too many dead bodies to make a functional crew for their ship. That meant this “captain” was their only hope of avoiding a watery grave, whoever he might be.
Aboard the galley, things were different. The fighting had not reached here, so the deck was free of bodies and blood. A healer was distributing bandages and herbs to soldiers who then made their way back to tend to the wounded as best they could. The healer herself joined them, tending to the most gravely injured where they lay rather than risk moving them. Soldiers clustered here and there, swapping stories of the fight or gambling in their rare free time.
“Wait here,” their guide said. He signaled to another warrior nearby, then left. The other fighter stood beside a tall, lean man with a shock of iron-gray hair. His clothing was similar to the soldier’s, and he carried the same standard-issue short sword, but something told Pax this was the captain. The man their guide had signaled spoke briefly to the taller man, pointing at the twins. The taller man nodded once and then turned back to some other task.
“Would you stop?” Hax asked.
“What?” Pax growled back.
Her brother nodded at her foot. Glancing down, Pax realized she was tapping her toe impatiently.
“Loosen up, you look like you’re going to gut the guy when he comes over.”
Pax glared. “What if I am?”
Hax looked around, taking in the soldiers and the fact that they were on a strange ship.
Pax took his point. “Fine,” she said. She made a conscious effort to keep her hands away from her hatchets and unclench her jaw. “Better?”
“You still look like you’d as soon cut out his heart as speak to him, but better, I guess.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of their unexpected host. Pax studied him intently for some clue about what was going on. He was older than she had guessed, perhaps in his fifth or sixth decade. Shorter than Hax, he still stood a head taller than she did, and he moved with an economy of motion that spoke of martial training. A neatly trimmed gray beard and mustache complemented the gray hair. He smiled as he approached, but it never reached his eyes.
“You’re the Roh twins,” he said without preamble.
“We are,” Pax answered. “Who are you and what do you want from us?”
“Let’s start with the latter,” he said. “You came into possession of certain documents several months ago. I need those back.”
“Back?” Pax asked, suspicion dawning.
The man’s smile twisted, turning wry. “To answer your first question, my name is Gregory Thynne. I believe you stole a courier satchel from me, and I need those documents back.”
Beside her, Hax threw back his head and laughed.
***
“Look, I’m telling you the truth,” Pax said. She balled her hands into fists on the tabletop and then forced herself to relax. Anger was not going to help in this situation. Hax seemed unaffected by their current circumstances; he leaned back in his chair, long legs extended in front, hands clasped behind his head.
Across the table from her, Lord Gregory Thynne frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Fine,” he said. “Let me get this straight. You, Macland Toth, and the rest of the Talon stole the documents from my way station, then sailed north to sell them to Holua Coët, only to be betrayed by the same man, whom you think is somehow in my employ? And now Mac’s using those same documents to poison Eric Arbassis against me?”
Pax thought for a moment, then, “Yep, that pretty much sums it up.”
Thynne slammed a fist on the table, jarring crockery and waking Hax from his doze. “Damn that man! I should have settled matters between us years ago.”
“Or, you know, maybe not destroyed his entire House?” Pax could not resist adding.
Thynne glared at her but took a deep, steadying breath. “You say they’re likely still in Starholt?”
Pax nodded. There was little point in lying about it.
Thynne’s chair scraped across the floor as he pushed it back from the table. “Captain!” he yelled. The captain, a harried-looking man in his middle years, appeared a few moments later. “Aye, my lord?”
“Change course. We sail for the Isle of Stars.”
Confusion flashed across the captain’s face, but he did not argue. “Aye, sir.”
“And Captain? We need haste. Run up as much canvas as she’ll handle.”
The captain nodded and disappeared up the stairs to the deck. Pax could hear him shouting orders all the way.
“Now, what should I do with the two of you in the meantime?” Thynne wondered.
Pax groaned, but her brother sank deeper into his chair. After a moment, she decided to follow his example. It was several days to the Isle of Stars, and whatever Thynne had planned, he needed them alive when they reached port.
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Pax is so awesome. What a great fight scene. I'm definitely re-reading everything when book 2 comes out!